The New Guy
by Tucker Bridges
Summary: Faith is training a new guy. Sucks to be her. Rated T for pure violence.
1. Chapter 1

_ First fic, Mirror's Edge. I've enjoyed it. Faith is training a new guy, Drake Finn. Fun, fun, fun! _

Standing on top of a building, looking over the edge, looking where she was lost to this world, so young, not even a year older than me... Remembering. Remembering the good times. Remembering how it was my fault. I remember becoming a Runner.

"Hey, Finn!" James "Mook" Carson yelled, as I was taking a leak. "Whatcha need, Jimmy?" I asked. Mook wasn't exactly charming, but we could've coexisted if he weren't a bully. He had picked on me since second grade. Once in Junior High, he even lit me on fire. I was the smallest in our class until the summer after my Freshman year in high school. At a lean and muscular six foot five, I was one of the largest our Senior year. Even bullies don't deserve what happened to him that day. But to the point for now. I zipped up my pants and got ready for a fight. "Me and these two are gonna give you a beatin' you'll never forget." "And I assume that this is going to leave me with broken self-esteem, a trampled spirit, and put me in counseling for the rest of my life?" Mook looked quite bewildered. "Well, maybe." At this, a young man with a video camera behind him snickered, earning a warning glare from Mook "I guess, you've got Chris and your other goons out there for if i wanna go to home after a long band practice like a normal person." Mook said back,"Yup. So don't try nothin'," At this, Frank pulled out a switchblade that I don't think was quite legal. I told him what I thought about the legality of his choice of weapon. Evidently Mook had enough of my trash talk , because he spouted profanities and told Frank Harris to attack. He did so, as if there was a bugle ushering him to battle. Of course, being a good little thug, he went in with the knife first.

And that's how it started. He stabbed at my shoulder, moving like a cobra. Luckily, I was faster. I grabbed his wrist, twisted it,took the knife, stabbed into Frank's calf, pivoted with my right foot so my leg was across his shins, put my right hand behind his head, kicked backward with my right leg, taking his legs out fom under him. Then I slammed his face into the urinal that I had just flushed, cracking the porcelain with his hard head. This filled me with a savage pleasure coursing through my veins. Then it was time to deal with the others. Gordon Thompson rushed me, then as he got close, he swung a fist at me, which I grabbed, pivoted, pulled down on his arm, and Judo threw him over my shoulder. Then I glared at Mook. He looked nervous for a fraction of a second, then it solidified into anger, like water freezing into ice. Even that very short glimpse of weakness was enough for me to know that he wasn't confident enough to beat me. He had started a fight he couldn't win, thinking sheer numbers would prevail.

He tried it anyway, as I knew he would. He kicked at my jaw, but I ducked, and too quickly for it to register, I shouldered him in the groin, slamming him into the door with such force that it cracks spiderwebbed from behind him, so I kicked him through through the wounded door. At this, his little groupie with the video camera ran off. That's okay, because, with the evidence that memory card contained would prove that I was just defending myself, not just beating the crap out of people. When I stepped through what was left of the door, Chris looked like he was about to crap himself, so I walked by. Then Frank got up and yelled, "Boys, get 'im!" At that, I began to sprint. I tossed my backpack into the band hall as I ran by, so it wouldn't slow me down. Mook was catching up, being a tailback on the Varsity football team. He wouldn't keep up long, though. I turned off into a hallway, heading toward the library, with it's upstairs research area. I vaulted over the guardrail on the grand staircase in the foyer. As I hit the vinyl, I rolled to shift my momentum so I wouldn't break my leg. Mook and his friends weren't quite that brave, so they took the stairs. Much slower. Of course, I had trained in Parkour over the summer. I never thought I would have to use it. I ducked into the library and turned the lights off so that I could have some shadow to hide in. About 15 seconds later, they all busted in, knives ready. I had angered them enough that they were ready to stab me. That's not good


	2. Chapter 2

_How do you like it? _

_Here they come, _ I thought. _What in God's name am I going to do? _ It was then that I remembered the upstairs research center. I sneaked quietly over to the ladder. I could've taken the stairs, but I would've had to go through Mook's goons. I climbed up. I waited right next to the trap-door, in case one of them came up here. Sure enough, about a minute after I got up, here came some "upstanding" young gentleman. So I kicked him in the head. _HARD._ As my Converse made contact, there was a quick spurt of blood. It was pretty hardcore.

When he screamed, of course everybody's attention snapped over to the lump on the floor that was Jeremy King. He fell like fifteen feet from the ladder. Also hardcore. I like that word. Then there was Mook's signature cry of anguish and a rush of feet. They all began to climb. Here I saw two options. Either try to hold out as long as I can standing here head-punting, or I could take the theatrical route. Of course I took the latter.

Mook was up first. Evidently he didn't like the idea of facing me alone, because he asked, "Where the did you learn to fight like that?" I thought about telling him about how my Navy SEAL father had taught me how to kill with my bare hands after Junior High, but I chose instead to say, "I'm friggin' magical." "Really?" he said back. That was when his playmates got all together. All told, there were about thirty guys up here when the sign by the stairs said to limit six.

So I said, "Uh, structurally speaking, I don't this is, uh, really good time for your buddies to, ah, drop in." I pivoted around and leaped through the window as the research area splintered and caved in. As I hit the sidewalk, I rolled, partly out of necessity, partly because it looked cool. I ran to my car, slid over the hood, unlocked the door, got in, and drove home.

I got home at around 7:45. My mom had evidently heard about the fight, because as soon as I walked in the door, she rushed over,

"Oh, baby, are you okay? I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

"Mom, I'm fine. I'm not hurt. In fact," I said with a swell of pride, "I don't think a punch was landed on me." It was then that my dad sauntered in.

"Then thats a self inflicted switch blade stuck in the back of your leg?" Dad inquired with much zeal. "Huh?" I asked, then looked. Sure enough, a blade was there, just above the knee. Lots of blood.

I passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for your comment on chapter 1, gheu. Just watch the language. Enjoy. I made some changes to chapter two. May wanna give that another look._

**Chapter Three**

I woke up in the hospital the next morning, with a throbbing head and a bandage around my leg. An IV drip was in my arm. I struggled to remember what had happened. Then it came back to me. For the first time since the "explosion" of the library. I like to think it's the blood loss that caused my lack of caring for the ones who fell through. I tried to get up, but found I was handcuffed to the highly industrial hospital bed. Then the door burst open and a tough looking man of about 45 to fiftyish followed it. He just stood and stared for a moment. I asked, "Did I destroy a Teletubby book? Because that would cause them to send you as their enforcer." His beard thing twitched at that. The guy had muttonchops with a moustache connecting them. It looked epic.

He evidently wasn't amused. " I'm Detective Jon Carpenter with the New Eden Police Department. And since you're on pain killers right now, I'll let that little comment slip." he said. "I don't think I feel like the pain is being killed right now." I said, feeling loopy in the extreme. I pulled the IV from my arm. Carpenter laughed. Then his face froze and he got so intensely frightnening with his new expression that I thought about hiding under the covers. He said, "What I won't let slip is twelve counts of assault, one count of assault with a deadly weapon, and a count of attempted murder." I replied, "Sir, it was self defense. I have proof; check my jeans. There sould be a memory card for a video camera." He checked; it was there. "You can watch it. Do you have a cell phone on you?" He answered, "No." I sighed. "Mine's in my jeans." Carpenter gave me my phone, and I took the memory card and plugged it in. The video came up.

Mook glared fiercely into the camera. "I just saw Finn go into the bathroom. We're gonna jump him. I got the whole starting varsity team out here for if he tries to run." He and his buddies walked into the bathroom. You know the rest.

"This just covers the part in the bathroom." Carpenter stated. "I'm sure you can piece the rest together from the security cameras." I replied. "Let me show you something." said Carpenter. He uncuffed me. "I trust you'll behave," he said. "Get dressed. I won't look." Mom had grabbed my backpack from the band hall. I put my boxers on with Carpenter's back turned. Athletic shorts next. My shirt said, "Trombone Forever" with a trombone in the background. I put my Converse on.

Carpenter led me to ICU. He opened a curtain. Mook lay there, unmoving, hooked up to all sorts of machines. "The kid likely won't walk again. Varsity to this."


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry it's been so long. Betwixt thanksgiving and band, I've been so strapped for time, I've forgotten to write. But I got a subscriber, (thanks, Mass Effect dude) so screw the naysayers!_

Faith Connors sat on the edge of the building, looking over the city and thinking. One of the old Runner warhorses had taken over for Merc after his untimely death. Good old Kreeg. She'd gone through some rough times since Pope, Kate, and Jacknife. She was of course, wanted for murder, which didn't make her life any easier. In fact, it had sucked. Lots. Kate had lost over 15 pounds, but she was safe for the time being in one of the Runner safehouses. Faith however, was not so comfy cozy, all curled up by the fire reading Nora Roberts, all lusty and the like. No, for Faithy, the show must go on. But Faith didn't mind, not one bit. Because _she_, unlike her sister,(she of the comfy-coziness) was out in the world, running, _free_.

_She_ was running, leaping, flipping, _living_, unafraid. She was high on the air, so high up, moving from one idol of urbanization to another, and loving every friggin' second of it. Yup, call her a romantic, she was high on life, the air, no, _her_ air. She was in love, love with running. She was _defying gravity!_ She was even hooked on the song from that musical, Wicked. No one was _ever_ going to bring her down.

All the Runners needed was a bit of a revitalizing. And she firmly believed that. Screw Icarus! Screw the rotten core of the government! She was gonna burn 'em all down... All of them. Why give up? Why give in?

_Short chapter. Just a taste, a tease... The thing about getting hooked on Wicked is actually a true story. It happened to me... And _I'm _a rocker. I guess it's a guilty pleasure..._


	5. Chapter 5

_Just to clarify, Faith=3rd person Finn=1st person. Yes, I am writng more than one character to convey my story better. If you don't like it, may you be crushed in Hagrid's buttcrack!_

I was discharged from the hospital almost immediately after my visit to Mook's little curtained off area. Soon after that, all charges were dropped. Life was good. Or so it seemed. My stiches are out. My leg still hurts, however. It's Super BALLS! (it's a bird! it's a plane!) Despite all that, I'm back in my element, faded jeans, hilarious t-shirts, and all. All the pain really is is soreness by now, anyway.

The first week back at school was very strange. At first they didn't want me to come back, but eventually my dad convinced them. Of course I was going to have to stay out of trouble, la di da di da. I walked in Monday morning and got a nasty shock. Stepping into the cafeteria to wait for school to begin, Mook Carson was standing next to all of his cronies, blocking my path into the relative safety of the cafeteria. I stepped up and said, very politely, I might add, "Excuse me, please."

He said, "How 'bout not."

"But I said the magic word!"

Mook scoffed, "I don't care."

I asked "Can't we be civil?"

He said, "Aw, come on. I just wanna have a word with ya!"

"You've had several." I replied curtly.

"Ya nearly killed me last time we saw each other, but we ain't fighting. Me and my little buddies're just gonna beat ya an' there ain't gonna be no struggling, right?"

"WRONG!" I shouted, and pulled one of those party favors that explode into confetti. I pulled the tab and fired the multi-colored paper launcher into his face, causing an effective distraction. I turned around and took off. While Mook was recovering, his friends chased after me. I sprinted down the corridors, and when I got to the front door and pushed them open without slowing down. I took off into the soft morning sunlight.


End file.
